


Moments In Time

by McRaider



Series: Moment In Time [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxiety Attacks, Awesome Greg Lestrade, BAMF Greg Lestrade, BAMF Mycroft, Child Neglect, Childhood Friends, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Freckles, Greg is Sweet, Greg loves freckles, Hurt Lestrade, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Mycroft, M/M, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft Has An Eating Disorder, Mycroft IS the British Government, Mycroft is Sweet, Oral Sex, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Protective Mycroft, Sexy Times, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Teen Lestrade, Teen Mycroft, abused greg lestrade, alternative universe - mycroft and greg meet as kids, greg is sometimes a doormat, greg loves mycroft's hair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-19 21:57:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 14,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McRaider/pseuds/McRaider
Summary: AU: the first time Mycroft met Greg Lestrade, they were 15 and 18 respectively, and neither one realized the journey they'd go on together and all the happiness they'd bring one another.





	1. The Day We First Met

**Author's Note:**

> So while these chapters are going to be drabbles (sorta I don't really do JUST 100 words or so), know that if you like a chapter I'll gladly expand on it per request! This is AU, and because I've got a fairly good idea of where I want to go with this story, it's plausible there may be a multitude of stories. The ultimate goal with this was to write it and get it out there first and foremost. Also, this is not Brit-picked, I try to do research and use the right words, please forgive me, and if you see something let me know I'm happy to correct it, I also accept brit-pick offers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a few changes, for starters I changed birthdays roughly, and I'll be updating the chapters later.  
> 1965: Greg's born  
> 1968: Mycroft's born  
> 1973: John's born  
> 1975: Sherlock's born  
> 1977: Eurus is born (appx. 15 months after Sherlock)  
> 1982: Victor dies/Musgrave burns

Chapter One - The Day We First Met

September 1983

Mycroft was almost sixteen at the time, and at the behest of his mother would be spending his final year of senior school among fellow students, and he couldn't help but think he didn't quite fit in. For starters he was just about the only redhead in the school, and he was shorter than nearly everyone. Not to mention he was much smarter than all of them, if only mummy hadn't insisted he attend school with other children. Something about socializing better. 

“Hey fatty, did you bring cupcakes for everyone!” one kid joked late in the day, while another shoved him into the wall, his stuff fell to the ground, and he felt his face grow bright red with shame as he knelt down to retrieve his items. He wished to comment on how trivial their statement was, it wasn't exactly a secret he was fat, but then comments like theirs never stopped hurting.

“Oi!” a voice snapped, and suddenly his new tormentors were dispersing. He glanced up to see another boy, perhaps closer to eighteen standing there, glaring at them before he knelt down beside Mycroft to help him. 

“You didn't have to do that,” Mycroft whispered, feeling horrified that he'd required defending, perhaps it wasn't a completely bad thing, but ultimately he knew it wouldn't bode well for later run ins when his new classmates didn't see his protector around. 

The gravelly chuckle surprised him, and he glanced up to see spiked chestnut brown hair sticking out in every direction. Amused chocolate brown eyes studied him curiously and the smile on the boy's face was enough to make Mycroft's stomach flutter ever so slightly. He didn't fully understand what he was feeling, but it was most certainly unlike anything he'd ever felt before. “I know, but they're jerks. Come on then, I'm Greg, wha's you're name?” he asked. 

The boy certainly wasn't good at proper English, based on how he spoke, and he didn't seem to sound like he originated from this part of England, but it was an olive branch for sure and Mycroft couldn't help but wonder how this would pan out. “Mycroft, Mycroft Holmes,” he explained in a high pitched voice that hadn't quite cracked yet. 

“I can teach you a thing or two, about defending yourself, if you'd like that is,” Greg offered as they stood and he handed the last of his personal belongings. 

Mycroft sighed, his face turning red again, “I think it's more to do with my portly appearance than my ability to defend myself,” he muttered, feeling embarrassed. His brother always told him he was a whale. Clearly everyone thought so. He half expected this new boy he'd met to say the same. 

“I think you look fine, besides, you haven't grown from the looks of it, my mum says boys don't have their major growth spurts til we're in our late teens. Just you watch, you'll be taller than all of 'em,” he grinned. “Can I walk you to class?” 

Mycroft, still not entirely sure what this boy's motive was, just nodded and together they headed in the direction of the their next class. Never realizing their relationship was the beginning of something much more.


	2. Skeletons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft begins to notice changes in his dear friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comment! I appreciate all of you, I'm pretty excited about this, I can't promise these will continue being drabbles lol, I hate writing only 500 or words or so at a time. So I'm trying.

Chapter Two: Skeletons  
November 1983

For the past few months, Mycroft Holmes had found himself a new best friend, it wasn't until he'd met Gregory Lestrade that he realized friendship was even an option. He'd never truly had a friend as a little boy, not like Sherlock had had Victor..well until a few months ago. Mycroft being nearly seven years older tended not to relate well to his younger siblings, he knew Sherlock loved him, and the boy who was now seven was full of love and affection for only his big brother, but aside from Sherlock's loving touch, Gregory was the only other person in the world who seemed to truly like spending time with Mycroft. 

They'd spent nearly every weekend together since they'd first met Two months earlier, but for some reason, lately, it seemed like Gregory had been pulling away from him. At first, when it had begun nearly two weeks ago, he'd worried it was Gregory's way of telling him he didn't want to be friends anymore, but Gregory continued to assure him that was not the case. Then, for the last two weekends, Mycroft hadn't seen his friend at all. 

So when Monday rolled around, he was more worried than anything about his Gregory, and as he neared the taller, older boy that morning, he realized it was with good reason. The boy in question, who was now eightee and seemed to have tapered off around 180 cm or so, he was now tall and had filled out quite a bit as well. However, instead of his usual uniform, he wasn't wearing his blazer, it had been removed and he had a button down shirt, with his sleeves rolled up, and his left arm was sporting a bulky cast that went from his hand to his elbow. 

Mycroft drew closer, walking around the boy, who's demeanor was usually much more upbeat and pleasant, to see sagged shoulders, and to Mycroft's horror, a deep black and blue bruises marring his handsome features, covering his left temple, and leaving a black eye as well. 

“Gregory,” Mycroft gasped as he drew near. Much like Gregory had suggested the previous year, he'd shot up nearly overnight between his thirteenth and fourteenth year, and was now about as tall as Gregory. He'd lost much of his fat as well, and was lean and lanky, which was mostly thanks to Gregory helping him train and eat better. 

“Please don't,” Greg whispered, his voice a mere shadow of it's usual self. 

“But, what on earth happened?” Mycroft questioned. 

“Nothing,” the other boy replied as he shut his locker, he looked up, meeting Mycroft's beautiful pale blue eyes, and for the first time ever, all Mycroft saw was sadness. “Just got in the way.”

Mycroft hesitated to ask if it was someone's fist, but he kept the question to himself, Gregory had always respected his privacy when it came to Eurus, so Gregory deserved the same respect. So, he just nodded and together the duo headed to class.


	3. Please Stay You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft learns what Greg's been dealing with

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a few edits to the previous chapters, in dates and what not, so feel free to go back and glance. Instead of starting it so early, I pushed chapter 1 and 2 to 1983, and I changed birthdays slightly.  
> As another note, thank you for the kind reviews and Kudos!!! Feel free to tell me things you want to see, I'll add them as we go. This will head into the Sherlock we know eventually.

Chapter Three – Please Stay

July 1984

Mycroft didn’t put much stock in people, if anything he viewed them more as a means to an end than anything. Unlike Sherlock, he was incapable to of caring for someone, or so he’d thought until he’d met Gregory Lestrade. Gregory had taken all of Mycroft’s rules of engagement and chucked them right out the bloody window. 

Where Mycroft expected hatred, Gregory offered only kindness, when Mycroft demanded seriousness, Gregory countered with playfulness. Where Mycroft expected to be used and then placed to the side, Gregory gave back twice as much. He was, simply put, the most glorious and genuine human being Mycroft had ever met. 

It had been almost a year since they had met, and almost eight monthssince Gregory had come to school with a broken arm and bruised face but had said nothing. Mycroft had respected the older boy’s request not to talk about it. But now, headed into their final days of summer, and after seeing him non-stop for almost the entire summer, Mycroft hadn’t seen or heard from his new friend in nearly a week and a half. 

Mycroft couldn’t help but worry about his friend, after all Gregory had taken his time repeatedly to support and show he was there for Mycroft, it was only fair to return the favor. Until the week he’d come to school with a broken arm, it seemed as though Greg was incapable of sorry and sadness. 

While that became clearer in May, it was today that it all truly changed for Mycroft. Today was the day, looking back, that Mycroft realized he became as invested in Gregory as Gregory was in him. He drove to the simple house of a recently remarried single mother of three, and parked. He got out and knocked politely on the door, waiting. 

He was greeted a few moments later by the woman he assumed was Katherine Lestrade-Moore, she was a beautiful woman, and Mycroft could see where her son got his good looks. “May I help you?” She asked him. 

Mycroft studied her for a moment, she had dark circles under her eyes-she wasn’t sleeping well. She was still wearing her wedding and engagement ring, so the issue wasn’t being caused by her current husband, perhaps a child or ex-husband.  
“I’m here to see Gregory.” 

She pursed her lips for a moment, trying to clearly decide what to do, before nodding, and opening the door up wider for him to step inside, “You must be Mycroft, come in love. Maybe you can cheer him,” she explained, before closing the front door and heading up the stairs directly across from the door. 

Mycroft followed her, the door they stopped at was the first one to the right of the stair case at the top. She knocked briefly, before putting her head inside, “Lemme alone,” a miserable mumble came from inside the room. 

She poked her head inside, “No, I’ve let you mope for a week, darling. You need to deal with this,” despite the firmness in her tone, Mycroft detected love and compassion as she opened the door, and let Mycroft into his room.

Again, Mycroft found himself speechless at the sight of Greg, who currently lay miserably on the bed. Instead of a single bruise there was large vicious hand print across his jaw and cheek, his lip had been split, his eye was blackened once more, and he had a bandage over the eye, that was just what Mycroft could see, from the looks of it and how Greg was moving, the damage extended to the rest of his body as well. “I can go,” Mycroft offered, suddenly feeling as though he was intruding. 

He almost missed Greg's request, “Please stay,” he whispered. 

Katherine smiled down at Mycroft, and surprised the boy when she pet the back of his head, “Go on, love. He could use a friend now, shall I make you some dinner?” 

“Thank you,” he replied as he stepped into the room and she closed the door for their privacy. Mycroft wondered how close he should come, if he should ask what had happened, if he had the right to ask such a question. They were friends, and Mycroft had told Greg of his sister Eurus, but this seemed different in a way. “I would ask if you're okay, but from the way you are moving, you have at least three fractured ribs, a sprained wrist, and perhaps an ankle.” 

“My da' doesn't like faggots,” Greg whispered and to Mycroft's surprise a moment later the wonderful, kind hearted Gregory let tears drip down his face. 

Mycroft knew what that word meant, but it was the first time he'd ever heard it directed as his dear friend. Some sort of unknown instinct kicked in and Mycroft crept toward the bed, and as carefully as he could, without hurting him any further, he wrapped his arms around Greg, one hand running through Greg's dark hair, and the other gently rubbing his belly.  
“I'm so sorry,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Greg's unharmed temple. He was shocked when the older boy buried his face in Mycroft's neck and sobbed, openly and without fear. All Mycroft could do was hold on tight and tell him he would always be there.


	4. Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft wants to understand why Greg went to visit his father the second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the kind reviews and kudos! I love this story so much already! And am very much enjoying writing it.

Chapter Four – Why? 

August 1984

“Why did you go see him again, after he hit you the first time?” Mycroft questioned a few weeks later. Greg had perked up some since Mycroft had started visiting daily. The two would be headed their separate ways soon, Greg for London to join Scotland Yard and Mycroft to Oxford for University. Even now, as they packed up Greg’s room, Mycroft feared what might happen if he didn’t see Gregory again. 

The older teen who had been busy going through some old paperwork and notebooks, paused and glanced up at his friend, as if seriously considering the question and his answer that would follow. Greg considered Mycroft’s family as he thought about the best way to answer, finally settling on an example he spoke, “Do you still love Sherlock even when he calls you those horrible names? Or Eurus after she nearly destroyed your family?” He wasn’t being mean, or pretentious, he was just trying to help Mycroft better understand how love worked, as it was clear the man had a very warped understanding of love. 

Mycroft, for his credit, considered Greg’s questions, first Sherlock. The boy, almost ten now, had changed significantly since Eurus had killed Victor Trevor. He was quiet, withdrawn and far less affectionate than he had been before the vicious drowning. Not that Sherlock recalled any of it, Mycroft suspected he had repressed the trauma. Sherlock had grown more volatile as well of late, snapping out at Mycroft every chance he got. Despite that, the urge to protect his younger sibling, to keep him safe and happy for as long as possible was utterly overwhelming. If that was love, then yes, he loved his baby brother dearly. Finally, he looked at Greg, who was patiently waiting for a response, “I imagine I do, yes. Though they certainly don’t make it easy,” he answered. 

Greg chuckled at that and nodded, “Family rarely does,” with a shrug, he reached over to his bedside table and handed Mycroft a picture frame. It was of Greg himself, perhaps seven or eight, in a rugby outfit, being held up by an older man, clearly his real father. “He’s my da’, Myc. He’s the one who taught me how to play football, an’ how to ride my bike. He used to tuck me in at night, and read me bedtime stories. He…he didn’t used to be the man he is now, so cold and cruel,” the last word was whispered as he looked back down at the picture Mycroft had returned. 

“May I ask what changed?” Obviously they’d been a happy family once, Mrs. and Mr. Lestrade had three children, two older girls and their son Greg. 

Greg shrugged once more, in a typical teenage fashion, “Me, I suppose. They started fighting before the divorce, and I used to hear it and get upset, so I would run away, get into all sorts of trouble. Not illegal of course, but trouble all the same. Eventually, they just split. I think that really changed him, shortly after he lost his job and started drinking. I imagine coupled with the disappointment that I had no desire to go to Uni and be a lawyer like him, didn’t meet his expectations was sort of a blow to his ego.” 

Mycroft felt irritation at the elder Lestrade, before he moved over and sat down beside Greg, “I don’t pretend to understand people, but from where I sit, it is not a child’s responsibility to fulfill their parents’ every expectation. Rather, to become the best man or woman they could be. You are not responsible for his failings, or the divorce, my friend.” 

The corner of Greg’s lips quirked up as he nodded, and leaned his head against Mycroft’s shoulder, “I know. I guess maybe I feel guilty, he has no one. Three kids and I’m the only one who still goes and see him.” 

Mycroft’s heart ached at the idea that Greg didn’t realize what a beautiful soul he had, “You are a good man, Gregory, perhaps better than me and certainly better than your father. Maybe one day he will see what a true gift you really are.” 

Greg was quiet for a moment, lost in his own thoughts, “Can we talk about something else now?” he asked, clearly a bit emotional and wanting to move on. 

Mycroft nodded and stood to go back to the box he’d been packing, “Certainly, take your pick.” 

“How about the fact that you haven’t eaten more than a piece of bread and some water in three days,” Greg pointedly stared at the younger man, as if daring him to deny it. 

“Gregory, sure you see that I am porpoise.” 

“No! I don’t see that, and even if I did, starving yourself isn’t the way to lose weight, Myc.” 

“Gregory, I am not athletic.” 

Greg stood, and grabbed one of Mycroft’s hands, “I’ll help you, I’ll have to pass a physical exam anyway. Please, don’t starve yourself anymore.” 

Mycroft looked at his friend, unable to resist the gorgeous dark brown eyes, he nodded, “Very well, what did you have in mind?” And that was how Mycroft Holmes found himself in a hideous track suit at five in the morning jogging beside his best friend. “I should note, I hate you,” Mycroft whined.

“No you don’t,” Greg replied, jogging backwards in front of Mycroft, grinning wide, bringing out his adorable dimples. 

“Well, I don’t like you very much then.”

“Nah, I think you love me!” he laughed before running ahead a bit. Leaving Mycroft to realize Gregory may have been right.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Mycroft's first time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is NSFW, but it is consenting, for the record. Thank you again for the kudos and comments!!!

Chapter Five – Beautiful With you

October 1984

_I am beautiful with you_  
Even in the darkest part of me   
I am beautiful with you  
Make it feel the way it's supposed to be --Halestorm 

“Do you think I’ll make a good copper?” Greg asked as they lay on the bed in his depressingly small flat that he could barely afford, Mycroft was visiting for a few days during break from Uni. 

They had known one another for just over a year, and Mycroft was certain of one thing; Greg may be the only man he would ever truly love. Not that he'd ever told the young man that, no he'd kept it to himself. He considered Greg's question for a moment, “I think you're the smartest regular person I have ever met,” Mycroft replied, smiling as his eyes studying Greg’s lips when the young man wasn’t looking. Mycroft had been thinking about it a lot lately, what it would be like to kiss those lips, to touch that body. Mummy had of course given him the talk, about boys and girls, and he had more than a few wet dreams over the last several months, all of which seemed to center around the dark haired boy with eyes like molten chocolate. 

“Can I ask you something?” Mycroft finally spoke. They lay facing opposite ends of the bed, their heads meeting in the middle, it was their favorite position it seemed to discuss the world, or at least their take on the world. 

“Course, Myc,” Greg chuckled; he was the only one that Mycroft would allow to call him that. 

“Have you ever kissed someone?” Mycroft turned his head to look at those beautiful eyes that made him feeling warmth he'd only ever had during his dreams. He felt drawn to Gregory, in a way he simply couldn't put into words. 

“Aside from mum and my sisters?” Greg questioned, he had two older sisters, and a younger brother and sister, much to his chagrin. Greg had explained that he and his older sisters were from his mother's first marriage. The younger two were from her current marriage. “Sure, I kissed a girl named Ellie back when I was twelve.” Mycroft felt an odd pang at that thought, what had it felt like, had he liked it. He was so busy contemplating it he almost missed Greg's next question, “Haven't you?” 

“No,” Mycroft replied, feeling utterly embarrassed. What would Greg think, would he make fun of him, tell him how stupid he was. 

“Do you want to?” 

Well that certainly surprised him, “Well, I guess, but I don't know who to kiss?” 

“How about me?” Gregory replied. 

Mycroft's eyes grew wide, he wanted to scream yes, tell Greg that it was all he ever thought about, but instead his pale blue eyes shifted to the gorgeous pink lips, he licked his own in a natural response. Greg's eyes were on his as he scooted forward, his lips parted only slightly. Mycroft felt his heart rate pounding bloody through his veins as the world seemed to fade away; he leaned forward and tentatively pressed his lips Gregory's.   
It wasn't life altering as some might suggest, Mycroft didn't feel stars or fireworks, but instead he felt peace. He felt the gentle lips pucker and open slightly, he felt his body's natural response to the kiss as he deepened it, his mouth opened and he felt Greg's tongue gently caressing his lips. Mycroft felt something else too; he felt his body responding to the kiss, as he pulled away, eyes still closed and a raging hard on in his pants. 

“How was it?” Greg's voice sounded about two octaves lower, almost husky as though he wasn't completely unaffected by the kiss either. Mycroft glanced at Greg's person and realized he wasn't, he appeared just as turned on as his mate. 

“A little wet,” he joked. Greg laughed and gently shoved Mycroft, one shove quickly became two, and soon they were wrestling on the bed. 

It was only when Greg realized he was rock hard, that he stopped. “Sorry,” he whispered as he tried to pull away. 

“Don't,” Mycroft whispered. He paused, “I'm sixteen, I want this,” he whispered. 

Greg looked at the younger man; Mycroft had come a long way a year. He was stunningly handsome, and Greg loved every inch of him. But the idea of sex was a bit worrisome. Not because Greg didn't want it, he did, but because Mycroft was only sixteen and he was almost twenty. If Mycroft changed his mind Greg could potentially be in trouble. “Myc,” he whispered his voice gravelly from being completely turned on. 

“I promise to never tell a soul, we don't even have to go all the way, just...please,” Mycroft pleaded as he pressed his hips into Greg. 

Greg could hardly say no as ever neuron in his brain screamed sex, nodding, he pressed his own hips against Mycroft's, “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he whispered as he pressed his lips to the other man’s. He slid one of his legs between Mycroft's and before he knew it they were rutting against one another hard and fast. 

It didn't last long, they were both still snogging as the orgasms crashed over them, moaning into one another’s mouths, as they tensed and enjoyed the sensations. As Greg finally released Mycroft, both their pupils blown wide, breath heavily, he leaned his forehead against Mycroft's. “You’re amazin,” he whispered as he hugged the other man close. 

Mycroft grinned and pulled his friend close, “So are you,” he murmured


	6. What Are We

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg wants to understand what they are, this leads to more fun times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay gang, hectic week. I'll upload another chapter either tonight or two tomorrow, but I had this brilliant idea I wanted to run with and unfortunately it's going to essentially need to take place somewhere in the next few chapters so I need to get that written first. That said I've got about 24 chapters written so far and another 15 or so planned.

Chapter Six: What Are We?

December 1984

“Are we dating?” Greg questioned two months after their first time. They’d continued the more physical aspect of their relationship when they saw one another during breaks and on the weekends. However, Greg wanted more, but Mycroft was so different than other blokes, he seemed afraid and unsure how love, so Greg hadn’t wanted to push it. 

They were having dinner in Greg’s flat, when Greg decided to broach the topic. Mycroft glanced up from his spaghetti that Greg had made for him. “Did you want to?” Mycroft questioned, “I certainly enjoy our relationship as it is.” And he really did, he enjoyed every moment he spent with Gregory, but the idea of having more was both alluring and frightening. Would things change between them? What if Greg decided he no longer liked Mycroft, or no longer wanted to spend as much time with him.” 

“I do too,” Greg assured him, “But yeah, I’d sorta like more with you.” Greg explained, finishing off his red wine. 

Mycroft nodded, sipping his own wine, “Very well,” he replied simply, trying not to smirk as he went back to finishing off his dinner.

Gregory was silent for a moment, shocked at how simple that had been, and how Mycroft acted as though it was no big deal. “That’s it?” Mycroft asked, staring at his partner in awe. 

Mycroft glanced up, keeping his face as neutral as possible, “Yes.” He paused, “Unless of course you wish to celebrate our agreement physically?” 

“Fuck yes,” Greg stated, grabbing his lover by the hand and all but pulling him out of the seat. He backed Mycroft up against the wall and began kissing him, he didn’t hesitate to separate the kiss and start kissing down Mycroft’s neck. The moan that came in response to his kisses went straight to his dick. 

Mycroft slid his long nimble fingers down and under the hem of Gregory’s shirt, removing it, and breaking them apart only for a moment to take it off over his head. Greg’s hands were doing much the same, working at Myc’s button down shirt, “Too many clothes,” he mumbled as he continued his path down. He pushed Mycroft’s shirt open and licked at one of his nipples, rolling it around between his tongue and lips. 

Myc’s hands were in his hair as Greg teased the other nipple, and then began to trail lower. His hands slowly undid the button and zipper of Mycroft’s pants and nuzzled the hard on beneath. “Bedroom,” Mycroft groaned, “I want all of you,” he tugged at Greg’s hair. 

Gregory chuckled, but allowed himself to be taken to the bed, he gently pushed Mycroft down, their lips meeting again. Mycroft pushed his own pants off, and Gregory’s as he gripped the man’s arse and ground their erections together. Gregory let out a moan of pleasure, “Please,” Mycroft urged him, “I want you inside me,” he whispered. 

Gregory paused, “You’re sure?” They hadn’t done penetration yet, this would be the first, for both of them. 

“Very,” Mycroft groaned, pressing their cocks together once more. Greg leaned over to the bedside table and pulled out lube and a condom. He started with one finger, working it in and out slowly, making sure Mycroft was stretched, before he added a second one. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Greg murmured, as lowed his mouth and took Mycroft’s glistening cock in his mouth, sucking on the tip as he slipped a third one in and pressed a little deeper. Mycroft cried out as Greg stroked his prostate. “Ready?” All he got as a wordless, breathy nod, and soon he lined up and was pressing in. 

They both had to stop for a moment, breathing heavily to stave off a quick end, but it felt so good to have Mycroft surrounding him. He started moving, slowly at first, then picking up speed as he gripped Mycroft in his hand and started jerking in rhythm.   
Nothing could compare to what Mycroft was feeling as Gregory continued to thrust over and over, he was at the very edge when he felt Gregory’s fingers press just behind his balls and give one last jerk up and suddenly Mycroft’s whole body clenched, riding wave after wave of pleasure. 

Gregory cried out in pleasure as Mycroft contracted around his dick, and a second later he was coming as well. Both spent, but still lying on one another, Greg slowly pulled out, removed his condom and pulled Mycroft into his arms. 

“I’m sweaty,” Mycroft warned. 

“Don’t care,” Gregory replied, as he pressed a gentle kiss to Mycroft’s forehead. He let the pleasure and happiness of the moment wash over him as he drifted off to sleep. 

TBC


	7. What is Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is a bit shocked when Greg shows up to take care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is actually based on a true story, this is how my wife realized I loved her as much as she loved me, and so she’s essentially Mycroft in this story.

Chapter Seven: What is Love? 

February 1985

In the course of two months, Mycroft had enjoyed every moment spent with Gregory as his boyfriend. Deep down, he realized he loved Gregory, but it wasn’t until a cold night in February when the wind was blowing sideways, and Mycroft was lying miserably in bed with strep throat and bronchitis, that he learned just how much Gregory loved him back. 

They’d had to cancel their weekend, at Mycroft’s insistence, as he didn’t want to get the new copper ill. He was miserable, feverish, surrounded by disgusting tissues of phlegm and snot. His throat hurt, his face hurt, his lungs hurt and worst of all he was out of tea. So when he heard a knock on his flat, which Uncle Rudy had insisted on during University, he was a bit perplexed. He managed to pull his gelatin like body from his bed, which was damp with sweat, and shuffle to the door in his robe and a thick pair of wool socks. 

He was stunned when he opened the door to reveal a red nosed and eared Gregory, who held a paper bag in one arm and what appeared to be a thermos in his other. He just stared in awe and confusion as Gregory pushed his way inside and toward the kitchen. “What are you doing here?” Mycroft questioned, following him pathetically. 

“You’re sick,” Gregory replied as if that explained everything. He pulled out a bottle of orange juice, without the bits, because Mycroft hated the bits, a bottle of paracetamol, a number of boxes with tea bags, and the thermos and put it all on the counter. 

“I’m aware of that, Gregory,” Mycroft rasped, grimacing as his throat protested. 

Gregory grinned, and gently moved around the kitchen, to steer his partner back towards bed, he pulled back the blankets, and gently pushed the man back down. “Lay there, are you hungry, mom sent her famous chicken soup, or I can just make you tea.” 

“Tea,” Mycroft replied, though it was more a question than statement. He was confused as Gregory disappeared back into the kitchen. His own mother didn’t even wish to care for him when he was ill. Yet here was Gregory, sweet Gregory who had been putting in fifty hours a week to make an impression, who was still in training, who lived an hour and a half away in decent weather. 

Before he could consider it further, Gregory returned with the hot cup of tea and a flannel and sat down beside him, “Here, take your robe off, this will make you feel better,” he offered as he patiently waited for Mycroft to do as instructed. A moment later as he clutched his tea, Gregory was gently wiping away the sweat from Mycroft’s back, neck and chest, then he was rubbing vapor rub on his chest to help relieve the congestion. 

“I don’t understand?” Mycroft asked several minutes later as he was lying back down, tea abandoned on the nearby desk. “Why are you here?” 

Gregory chuckled as he cuddled up behind his lover, holding him close he whispered in his ear, “Daft sod, because I love you.” He answered, pressing a kiss to the man’s sweat damp hair. 

“You love me?” 

“Yeah, course I do,” Greg answered, he didn’t expect or even care of Mycroft didn’t feel or realize he felt love back. All that mattered was that someone show Mycroft how special he was, and that was Gregory’s job.

TBC


	8. Fake it Til You Make It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality sometimes comes crashing down around us like landslides. Mycroft makes a decision that impacts both he and Gregory, and will ultimately leave them both hurting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter for today because I missed Friday. SorryNotSorry for the cliff hanger of sorts. There is homophobic language in this chapter, please be mindful could be triggery.

Chapter Eight: Fake it Til You Make

September 1987

For almost three blissful years the pair lived as if no one in the world would care that they were gay and a couple. Greg had worked his way up to Sergeant, and was enjoying helping people. Mycroft was in his final year at Uni as a politician and was poised to take over for Uncle Rudy in a year or two. It was all about to come to a crashing halt that would leave both man damaged in a spectacular way. 

The evening had started out well enough, Mycroft was speaking with a African diplomat while Uncle Rudy negotiated nearby with another ambassador. “Tell me, Mr. Holmes,” The man intoned, “why isn’t there a pretty woman at your side?” Mycroft didn’t particularly care for the African, but tolerated him because the man’s boss was a well respected man, one whom Mycroft liked very much. 

“Because I am not interested in pretty women –” before he could finish, his uncle painfully gripped his bicep. 

“Forgive me, Mr. Amon, I need to speak with my nephew privately. Excuse us for a moment,” with that he all but hauled the nearly twenty year old man away. They headed into a private parlor, where Mycroft was nearly thrown before his uncle. 

“Uncle--”

“Silence!” Rudy snapped, he was a brutish man, large and round, who wheezed when he walked too much, as though his body wasn’t used to basic movements. He glared at his nephew with beady gray eyes. “I have had enough of your foolish flight of fancy. You are poised to become one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful man in England. You needn’t find yourself a woman, but you damn sure will not admit to being a bloody poof!” He waved his sausage finger in Mycroft’s face. 

Mycroft paled and felt his stomach churn at the familiar word, and the amount of disgust behind the word his uncle had just called him. “I apologize, uncle.” 

“Furthermore, that idiot you’ve deigned worthy of your time, is nothing more than a play thing who is likely trying to use you to gain power and fame. You will end it with him.” 

“No! Mycroft started, terrified at the very idea of losing his Gregory. The back handed slap to his cheek and jaw left his face red, and his mind reeling. He had to hold back the tears of shame and anger. 

“You listen to me you insolent little brat,” Rudy took a step closer, despite being a good three inches shorter, he was far beyond intimidating. “I’ve spent the last seven years grooming you for this. Helping you hid your pathetic family history. Caring is not an advantage. If you wish to replace me, then you will do well to get rid of that idiot or I will do something far more permanent.” With that, and the grace of a man who seemed far lighter, the man whirled around and stalked from the room. 

Despite him being gone, the room felt thick and heavy as Mycroft paled and found a nearby seat. He couldn’t let anything bad happen to Gregory. Mycroft would rather spend his life knowing Gregory was happy and healthy with someone else, than risk him being killed for being with him. 

Pushing down all his feelings and emotions, straightening his three piece suit and putting on his face of indifference, he walked out of the room as though nothing had happened. Replaced was Mycroft, by the Ice Man. 

The following morning, Mycroft arrived at Gregory’s flat, the kind eyes and brilliant smile almost broke the young politician’s resolve. “I must end this,” he stated over breakfast tea, as though it was nothing at all. 

“Wha’?” Gregory replied, not believing the words. His mind was already reeling, his heart pounding at those words. 

Mycroft steeled himself for what he had to say, the only way to separate was to hurt him, “A man of my position cannot afford such trivial things as a relationship.” 

Greg’s eyebrows rose up and together on his forehead in shock, his eyes filled with pain, “Hold on, where’s this coming from?” 

Mycroft scoffed, “It’s been coming for years, Gregory. We are no more, I wish you well in all your endeavors,” and with that he headed right back towards the door. 

Greg reached out, grabbing the man’s elbow, “Myc—”

“It’s Mycroft, you imbecile! Don’t you see, you are far too plebian for someone such as me!” with that he walked out, not daring to look back in fear of what he might see in those expressive eyes. 

When he got home, he cried for the last time in years, all the while Greg just stood there in shock. 

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A movement chapter, Mycroft and Greg both meet their respective and temporary other halves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are almost in the double digits, tough to believe. The chapters coming later this week and early next week will begin to take on a darker tone to them as we head into what I ultimately would like to think as the first beefy part of the story. Where the men will deal with major traumas or events that alter their perspective on life and their careers, it will also be the beginnings of changes in their relationship.

Chapter Nine: Since You've Been Gone

December 1991

Mycroft met Daniel on a cold and magical evening while attending a ball for Uncle Rudy, who was declining in health. He was beautiful, the definition of tall, dark and handsome. Mycroft watched him, entranced by his laughter, and the way he seemed to command the room. 

“You are a fascinating man, Mr. Holmes,” Daniel spoke as he joined Mycroft on the terrace later that evening. Mycroft merely hummed as Daniel grew closer, “Is it true what they say, that you’ve never had sex?” he purred in Mycroft’s ear. 

Despite nerves, which he attributed to human desire, he smirked “I assure you, that is not the case,” he chuckled. 

The grin Daniel gave him as though undressing him with his eyes, was both unnerving and heady. “May I interest you in a date sometime?” he questioned again. 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Mycroft replied. 

“It can remain private,” Daniel offered, “I mean we have to be careful, guys like us.”

Mycroft wondered why, but he only had experience with Gregory, perhaps not everyone was as kind and sweet as him. “Very well, my place tomorrow?” 

o0o

Gregory met her at a bar; he’d been on a blind date that never ended up showing. Sarah smiled and laughed sweetly, and Greg instantly noticed, while he usually leaned towards men, he certainly didn’t mind noting she was stunning. Pale honey colored hair and gorgeous gray eyes. He flirted, she flirted and perhaps if he’d been Mycroft he’d have noticed the smell of another man, or the band that had been removed from her finger only hours earlier. 

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” She asked, smiling playfully. He hadn’t dated since Mycroft, Christ he missed…no ached for him. Sally said it wasn’t healthy to be alone, but Greg wondered if trying to replace someone was equally unhealthy. 

“Sure,” he replied, deciding it was time to move on, no matter how bad it hurt. Perhaps it was unkind, that both men thought of one another the following night as they had sex with their respective dates. 

April 1992

He married her, not realizing she was already looking for another adventure behind his back. The wedding had been beautiful and both feigned happiness, despite the fact that Greg spent a majority of the day wishing it was someone else in place of Sarah. 

Mycroft cared for Daniel, but it took a quick turn, it started at dinner, when Mycroft considered dessert. “Maybe you should go on a diet, you aren’t exactly skinny, Mycie.” His words left Mycroft feeling suffocating, but he merely nodded. So, he stopped eating, heaving just enough to sustain himself. 

Things went downhill quickly, while his Uncle’s health continued to worsen. It became verbally and sexually abusive. It was the night Rudy suffered a massive coronary that it all came to a head. Mycroft was trying to get ready to leave, “I must go, he needs me,” Mycroft explained. 

“Damn it Mycroft, that man treats you like yesterday’s trash!” Daniel growled. 

It was an impulse response that he couldn’t stop “So do you!” he never saw the fist coming. Forty minutes later and a domestic abuse call from the neighbors, that Mycroft sat on the back of an ambulance, completely mortified as a familiar figure stared down at him, arms crossed. “You pressin’ charges then?” he asked Mycroft. 

Mycroft rolled his eyes, as he pulled the tissue away from his nose to check if the bleeding had stopped, “Do I have a choice?” he grumbled in reply. 

“Yeah, break it off with the wanker,” Greg snapped. 

“Obviously Sergeant Lestrade,” his reply was cold despite the fact that he felt proud that the man had already gained status among his new peers. 

Greg sighed in response, he eyed his ex, unable to miss how thin his friend appeared, “And how about all the weight you lost, was that him too?” 

The glare Mycroft gave him could kill, as Greg held his hands up in defeat, “Never mind, arse.” 

“Tell me, is this how you treat all your victims?” Mycroft hissed, he was frustrated more than anything, and he knew he didn’t deserve pity, he’d let this relationship go on far too long. Greg was worried about him and that was it, Mycroft didn’t even deserve that much. 

“No, but then you’re never the victim when you have it your way,” Greg shot back. 

“Are we done?” 

“Screw you, Holmes,” and with that he stalked off, leaving Mycroft feeling horrible and ripped open raw. He’d hurt the only man who had ever cared about him, who had ever shown him any concern despite his own personal pain. 

Uncle Rudy died a few short days later, at age fifty-six, alone and unmissed by all, even his nephew. Mycroft sat in his inherited office three days after, watching Greg on his CCTV, the man was married, and it made Mycroft wonder if they could’ve been married by now. 

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Greg meet once more...over Sherlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of chapters, I've been struggling with some later chapters, I seem to be past it, going to make the necessary edits tonight and hopefully more forward. Thanks for the patience.

Chapter Ten: Family Bonds  
June 1997

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade found himself staring down at a familiar looking man, curled up in one of his cells as he rode out the withdrawal symptoms of cocaine. The druggie had been milling about a murder scene and ranting about the ex-husband committing a simple crime of passion. 

“Oi, Lestrade,” Sally called, “Boss there’s some posh bloke here in your office, insisting he see you.” 

Heading to his office, he cursed under his breath at the familiar figure sitting in his chair. Mycroft Bloody Holmes. Ten years apart and he still couldn’t get away from the bastard. He was still as stunning as ever, his hair had darkened, he wore a baggy pinstriped suit, at least around his legs, which he’d always been insecure about. His red hair had grown darker, and was receding some, but he still spoke elegance. 

Mycroft naturally looked less surprised to see Gregory, as he took in the dark trousers, and polo that showed off his killer abs. Greg’s once dark brown hair now had a few stray grays. He watched as Gregory closed the door behind him, and moved to sit behind his desk. 

“That certainly explains why he looked so familiar. He’s quite a bit taller than I expected.”

Mycroft resisted the smile that was playing at the edges of his lips, “I need you to release him,” he stated simply. Seeing Greg again hurt more than he cared to admit, knowing he could never have the man. 

Greg pursed his lips, “No,” he replied simply. 

“I beg your pardon?” No one every told him no.

“You heard me,” Greg answered, his tone calm and collected. Mycroft gave him a withering glare that would have most cowering, but not Greg; he was always the bravest man Mycroft knew. “I’m not your lackey. I don’t do your bidding. If Sherlock can prove he had an alibi once he’s clean, then and only then, I’ll release him.” 

“Detective--” 

“No, Mr. Holmes. And while we’re discussing your brother, why is he out on the bloody street? Did Mummy finally kick him out for his smart mouth,” it was a low blow and Greg knew it. He was angry, hurt and missed this man, it made him want to hurt too. 

Mycroft stood, suddenly furious, “You will keep your assumptions to yourself, Inspector. You know nothing of me, or my family.” 

Greg stood in response, “That’s where you’re wrong. See after fifteen years, I know plenty. You may scare other people, with your Iceman façade, but not me. So before you ever walk into my office trying to intimidate me again, you just remember who you’re dealing with. Not get your arse out of my office until you ask politely.” 

Mycroft’s eyes narrowed, but for another moment, he weighed his options, Gregory was always sexy as hell when he was commanding. But kissing the married man in a public place was not an option. Turning, umbrella in hand, he stalked out. 

Greg deflated instantly, caught between turned on and utterly depressed, shite he missed that wanker.   
TBC


	11. Conciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Gregory finally come to an agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got some more work today, had to stay home sick from work. So hope you enjoy

Chapter Eleven: An Agreement  
December 1999

Greg arrested Sherlock another eighteen times over the next eighteen months for being high at crime scenes, or minor possessions. He never filed charges, juts brought him back to the office to let him detox. It was Christmas Eve, his pregnant wife was at home, pissed at Greg because once again Sherlock Holmes had interrupted a family night, and had him sitting in a cell with the man. 

“This has to stop, mate,” Greg spoke quietly, it broke his heart to see such a brilliant man struggle like this. “I’ve been thinking, you said you get high when you’re bored. If I could be sure you were clean, and you stayed clean, I could give you cold cases, maybe even get your set up at Barts.” 

Sherlock studied Greg, looking for the lie, he remembered Greg always being nice to him despite how evil he’d always been to Greg. “When?” he questioned. 

“You’ve got two weeks. Meet me by Barts first thing in the morning on the 8th and we’ll get you tested. If you’re clean, I’ll give you a new cold case every week.” 

Sherlock smiled, “Deal.” They sat silently for several more minutes, “She’s cheating on you, you know.” He offered quietly, glancing over at his brother’s oldest and perhaps only friend. 

Greg let out a deep sigh in frustration, “I figured as much. Been thinking it for awhile,” he replied, his voice was startlingly complacent. “Tell me?”   
It was one of the few times Sherlock paused, considering his options, considering someone else’s feelings, “Back when you and my brother were together, you preferred Sandalwood aftershave. When you two split you changed to my brother’s more expensive brand, likely because it reminded you of him. It’s one of the few things you splurge on even twelve years later. I’ve been in your car several times over the last months. You wife wears something more floral, but lately there’s been a shift, to Old Spice and something akin to gym socks. I can only assume you have better hygiene, thus I assumed it was her.” 

Greg closed his eyes in defeat, how could he have been so stupid, he was sure it had been going on for years, but he’d been ignoring it. “His name is Kyle, he works with Sarah.” 

“May I go?” Sherlock didn’t want to remain in this conversation anymore. 

“You have a place to go?” When Sherlock nodded, Greg stood and opened the door, “Two weeks, Sherlock.”

When Greg got home he looked at their wedding photo as he passed it in the hall, it was all a lie. Sighing, he moved into the nursery, where his five year old slept now, and his infant would sleep when born. His daughters were the best thing that would come out of this marriage. A complete sham of a marriage. Kneeling next to her bed he pressed a feather light kiss to Sophie’s beautiful forehead, running his fingers over her dark brown hair. He would fake it, until Abi was born, then he’d asked for a divorce. With a defeated sigh, he stood and headed into the bedroom he shared with wife. 

It was another four days later, before the New Year, he was outside the police office, having a smoke when the black car pulled up directly in front of him. A pretty woman stepped out of the car. She had pretty brown hair and pale green eyes, she gave him a brief smirk before she pointed to the car. 

Greg dropped the fag and stubbed it with the toe of his shoe, before he nodded and climbed into the back of the car. She also got into the car, closing the door. He waited calmly until they were moving. “So, you the poor woman keeping him in line these days?” he asked looking over at her. 

She gave him a small smirk, “Suppose so.” The car pulled up to the Diogenes building, and she looked at him, “You aren’t to speak until inside his office. Their rules, not ours.” With that she got out of the car, letting Greg follow. 

“How very Mycroft,” he mumbled, as he followed her into the building. He was led down the tall halls, to an impressive office. It was lined with wood and book shelves. Mycroft sat in the middle of the room in a winged back chair, another one sitting opposite him, a small table just off the side with two steaming cups of tea. 

As he stepped inside, the woman remained by the door, until Mycroft lifted his hand to bid her a thanks, and she closed the door, leaving them alone. 

“Deportation or firing?” Greg questioned. 

“Really Inspector?” Mycroft replied in exasperation, “Please have a seat,” he requested, his voice taking on a softer tone. 

Greg did as instructed, waiting patiently as he studied the calm man before him. .They weren’t boys anymore, but men now; he was thirty-four with two children…well soon two girls. Mycroft was thirty-one now, he was tall and lanky, thin enough for Greg to know he still wasn’t eating nearly enough. He was still beautiful, kind and clearly brilliant, Greg was still very much in love with the man before him, despite his deepest desires not to be. 

“I wanted to thank you.”

Greg was shocked, and after a moment, his face broke into a playful grin, “How painful was that?” 

“Unbearably,” Mycroft replied with the ghost of a smile, “Sherlock told me of your agreement. You did more for him than I certainly ever could. Despite how hard I have tried.” 

Greg didn’t necessarily agree, he knew damn well that Mycroft had dug Sherlock’s arse out of plenty of situations. He also knew that Mycroft was still likely to protect Sherlock for as long as the older man lived. “He’s a good man. Or he will be someday, I suppose.” 

“We can only hope.” 

Greg sat for a few more minutes, before speaking again, “Why am I here, Myc-roft,” he gave the man a sad smile “Sorry, old habits.” 

Mycroft’s exterior softened some, “He won’t talk to me, thinks I’m some sort of villain to be avoided. I need to know he’s okay, I’d be willing to compensate you of course.” 

“Keep your money. I’ll tell you what I can, of course. But no more kidnappings,” Greg replied, he missed Mycroft, and their friendship. 

Mycroft, however, misunderstood, his face looked almost sad, “Of course, email is sufficient.” 

Greg smirked, glad he could still keep the bastard off balance once in awhile, “No, you daft sod. I was thinking dinner, maybe once a week.”

Greg’s smile had desire shooting through Mycroft’s veins, as the politician nodded, “Dinner would be very acceptable.” 

TBC


	12. Truth will Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first dinner since the break up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeling two chapters today! Lucky you! Thanks all for your great responses!!! And the Kudos!! I'm going to muck up the timeline a bit, instead of the series starting in 2010, assuming I can make the ages work, I may have it start almost eight years earlier. But I'll let you know when we get there!

Chapter Twelve: The Truth Will Out  
January 2000

It was mid January by the time they managed to finally see one another for dinner. Mycroft had been in diplomacy for years, however he kept straightening his tie, “You’re nervous?” Anthea questioned as they rode towards the restaurant. 

“Yes.” 

“Sir, may I speak plainly?” she asked. 

Mycroft’s eyebrow rose, “Don’t you always?” 

“True, I don’t know the DI like you. But he seems to be the perfect amount of chaos to your pristine order. From the little I’ve seen and know, that is.” 

“You think he compliments me well?” Mycroft asked as he looked out the window away from her.” 

“Quite.” 

He’d never had anyone before Gregory. No friends, no real support. Even now, all he had was Anthea and he doubted she saw more than a boss in him. But, after years and heartbreak, Gregory was still willing to be ‘in his corner’ so to speak. “He’s married,” Mycroft replied softly. They could’ve been married by now, but instead they’d been separated by twelve years. 

“To a serial cheater, sir.” 

“Rather judgmental,” Mycroft whispered, smirking slightly. 

“Your white knight has arrived, sir,” she pointed out the car window, as Gregory Lestrade was approaching from the other direction. Mycroft gave her a brief smile, before he stepped out of the car and smiled at the handsome man. 

“I hear congratulations are in order,” he greeted the man. 

Greg grinned wide, “Ta, Abigail Katherine, 2835 kg, she’s beautiful, do you wish to see her?” he pulled his wallet out and handed his old friend a small picture. 

Mycroft normally didn’t care about anyone’s children, but he did care about Gregory, so he accepted it, and smiled at the perfectly...well perfect little child. She was quiet beautiful, she had Gregory’s nose, and perfect eyes. “She is stunning for an angry red ball. But then being your baby, of course she’s beautiful, inside and out.” 

Greg had to resist the urge to kiss him; instead he blushed and opened the door for Mycroft. They were shown to a private table in a very posh restaurant, Greg felt a bit out of place in his perfectly tight jeans and suit jacket. “You certainly moved up in the world.” 

Mycroft, surprised Greg with a simple shrug, “Perhaps, but this is at the least I could do. Gregory, I’m sorry.” 

The honest emotion in Mycroft’s eyes left Greg feeling lost; he hated himself for still loving this man. “Ta, but you said what everyone was probably thinking, ‘why’s a gorgeous, brilliant bloke like you doing, slummin’ it with the likes of me.” 

“No,” Mycroft whispered, “Greg, I’m so sorry I hurt you, but you deserve to know the truth. I lied to you, I had to.” Gregory’s confused look prompted Mycroft further, “My Uncle Rudy overheard me telling someone about being gay, about being with you. I was a boy, I didn’t know better. He hauled me into a private room and threatened me. He threatened to hurt or kill you,” he felt the familiar ache of the memory, a lump in his throat, “He told me you were using me, and that caring wasn’t advantageous.” 

Gregory was livid, he had to take a few deep breaths, before reaching out and gripping Mycroft’s hand, “Is he still alive?” he questioned, fury tangible in his tone and jaw line. 

“No, he died shortly after I broke it off with Daniel.” 

“Good, I won’t need to be arrested for assault or murder,” he replied. 

Mycroft stared in shock, before bursting into laughter, which Greg soon joined in. Once their laughter died down, Greg studied his dear friend wishing they could still be together. But then he’d never have his beautiful girls, “I was never with you for power. I was only ever with you because you were my very best friend, and I loved you. Oh and because you’ve got killer legs.” 

Mycroft blushed furiously, “Thank you, perhaps we could start fresh?” 

Greg nodded, “I’d like that.” 

When Mycroft went home that evening, he felt pleasantly warm from the wine and the time he’d spent with his Gregory. Maybe one day, they could be pair again. But until then friendship felt wonderful and refreshing. 

TBC


	13. A Tale of Neglect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The divorce proceedings get ugly, and Mycroft shines some light on neglect, for the man he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning there is mention of child neglect, not abuse per se, but actual neglect of a child. If you find this disturbing you can skip it.

Chapter Thirteen:   
November 2000

He stood outside smoking the fag, hoping it would help drag the tension from his shoulders. As he finished, it a familiar black car pulled up, Mycroft and Anthea both stepped out. “Ready?” Mycroft questioned as he looked at his friend. 

“To lose my girls, Christ no,” he whispered, he felt uneasy, he hadn’t slept in days. Something Mycroft had known because he’d been the one Greg had talked to on the phone endlessly to fall asleep. 

Anthea gave him a kind smile, “You won’t lose them. Mycroft and I found all the necessary evidence to guarantee custody. In addition, the judge is a fair one, if you make this about the girls and their needs, and they’ll choose the right person.” She offered. 

Greg nodded, and together the trio headed into the court building. Outside the courtroom, sat his mother, step-father and his two little girls. “Daddy,” Sophie smiled as she hurried over to him. He leaned down and lifted her up from under her arms. 

“’ello pumpkin, I’d like you to meet two friends of mine, this is an old friend of mine, Mycroft Holmes and his assistant Anthea.” 

The girl studied Mycroft with precision, as well as Anthea. She reached out to poke Mycroft’s nose, giggling. “Sorry,” Greg chuckled, catching the little one’s hand. “She’s been doing that a lot lately, makes Abi giggle.” He put his five year old down on her feet. 

Mycroft was shocked when two little strong arms wrapped around his knees, he looked down at the beautiful brown eyes staring up at him. “Hi,” she grinned up at him. 

He felt his heart melt, he didn’t like children, only Sherlock really. But this little princess was making the Iceman turn into an ocean of love and compassion. He used his umbrella to squat down and take her hand into his, showing her how to shake his hand. “Hello, little darling,” he greeted. 

“Mycroft?” Katie Lestrade stood and smiled as she looked at the man who’d once been a sweet young man. He stood back up, and she cupped his face. He was shocked by how much the gesture warmed his heart. “Look at you. All grown and handsome.” 

“Time has been very good to you, Mrs. Lestrade,” he told her, kissing her cheek. 

She waved him off, smiling, “Flatterer. Greg, darling was Sarah outside?” 

His brow’s furrowed, “No, what she didn’t come this morning like she said she would?” 

“No, Hank had to pop out to get formula,” she explained. 

Before they could speak further the court door opened and they were waved into the room. Hank looked up to Greg, from where he sat bouncing his granddaughter on his knee lightly to keep her from getting upset. “I’ll stay out here with the girls, son,” he assured the younger man. 

“Thanks, Pop,” he replied. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sophie’s head, “Sit tight beautiful,” he and his ‘legal aid’ headed into the court room.   
The judge entered a few moments later, she glanced around and gave a disapproving look, “Where is Mrs. Lestrade?” 

“She hasn’t shown, ma’am,” they answered. 

She looked at Gregory, “We’ve been here before, Inspector Lestrade, your wife has petitioned for full custody, saying you’re uninterested in being a father to your children. We’ve had that opinion assessed naturally. Your response was to petition in return for fully custody, sighting the same things. While your wife is certainly not here to defend herself, I would like to hear—” 

Before she could continue, both Sarah and her attorney stepped into the court room, both looking inappropriately debauched. Greg’s face turned red as he looked at the floor. The judge clearly figured it out as well, before she continued. “Tell me, Inspector, why you are requesting full custody.” 

It was Mycroft who stood and spoke, he moved forward and handed her multiple files and then began, “Your honor, we have proof of three, well now four, separate occasions where Mrs. Lestrade’s need to be thoroughly…well sexed to put it quite plainly by the nearest male, overrode her concern for her children.” 

“And just ‘ho the ‘ell are you!?” Sarah demanded, "I’ve never put my babies in danger!” she howled. 

Mycroft was really going to enjoy this, “Very well, I shall continue. Mrs. Lestrade, where were you on October 4th, 1998?” 

“Objection your honor, this isn’t a criminal case.” 

Mycroft looked at at the judge who considered the objection, “Overruled, answer the question Mrs. Lestrade.” 

“How the hell should I know!” 

“Your daughter was at the caretaker, records show, you were phoned more than thirty times because she was becoming violently ill. You were phoned twice by the caretaker before Mr. Lestrade was called and arrived promptly to meet them at the hospital, where your daughter was being treated with botulism, which was later discovered to have come from honey you gave her.” 

“I was workin’, that was before I quit, and I made a bloody mistake, one I still regret.” 

He gave a dry chuckle, “No, actually you were fired, two days later, after sleeping with the principal at the school, two days previously, which was October 4th. If your husband hadn’t been there to be able to list what you’d given her for breakfast, your daughter could’ve possibly died.” Sarah remained quiet, as Mycroft continued, “But, perhaps that’s a coincidence. How about February 21st, 1998? Your daughter, three by this time, was playing in the front yard, unsupervised, when she was trying to walk your dog, the leash got wrapped around her wrist and it broke her wrist. You were next door, with the neighbor’s new boyfriend. She walked in on you, to tell you your daughter needed to go to the ER.” 

Sarah remained silent again, when the attorney stood, “Your honor, is there a point to this? It’s degrading.” 

The judge had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, he looked over to Mycroft, “I can read your notes, Mr. Holmes, please continue to the actual point.” 

“You’re bloody Mycroft Holmes! I knew you were cheating on me!” Sarah yelled. 

Greg stood, furious, “I never cheated on you once! He’s my friend, you tit.” 

“Oi!” the judge snapped, “Silent both of you, or you’ll be excused. Mrs. Lestrade, your husband’s fidelity is not in question here. You’d do well to remember you have more than a few indiscretions yourself, so blaming him for even one, whether valid or not, is rather hypocritical.” 

Sarah had the brains to blush, before Mycroft spoke once more, “Your honor, as I understand it, a full time guardian has a day job and an evening job. During the day they work, in the evening they care for their child. Mrs. Lestrade has proven on a number of occasions not only to be incapable of devoting the appropriate amount of time to her children, but she continuously puts the needs of herself above those of her two daughters. In this situation, while Mr. Lestrade may not be the perfect father, but he has proven repeatedly that his intent above all else is to care for his daughters.” 

“And you think mine isn’t!” Sarah snapped.

The judge looked at her, “You certainly weren’t here in time for the case to start.” She sighed and looked at everything, “I’ve seen more than enough to make my decision, and quite frankly I did before Mr. Holmes shared his facts. Mrs. Lestrade, it is clear to me that while you may love your children, you’re far more interested in your personal escapades than caring for your daughters. For the time being, the two Lestrade children will remain in the care of Inspector Lestrade, full time. Mrs. Lestrade, you may apply for partial custody once you have completed counseling and a sexual addiction program. If you complete those and we see improvement, you may apply for shared custody in a year’s time. Any questions?”

Sarah instantly began to scream, moving to attack Greg; thankfully her attorney held her back as she broke down and started sobbing. He watched her with sadness; truth was Gregory never wanted to hurt her. He watched as they left, no doubt bidding her children a goodbye. He looked at Mycroft who gave him a tight smile. 

TBC


	14. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Lestrade ropes Mycroft into assisting with getting her son to relax for the holiday.

Chapter Fourteen: Have Your Self a Merry Little Christmas  
December 2000

In truth, Greg never intended or expected that becoming a single father would be easy, he was dealing with a five year old girl who was broken hearted because she’d lost half her parental unit. Meanwhile he had an infant daughter who didn’t understand why she was getting different milk and not seeing her mummy anymore. 

In top of that, in the last four weeks, Sarah had found her new freedom enchanting and had stopped visiting, leaving Greg to be the one to tell Sophie. Then of course, work was utterly insane as well, as it usually was around this holiday. 

That was how Mycroft Holmes found himself with a visitor on December 20th. “Katie?” he questioned as he stepped into his office. The elegant woman with a neck and face like Julie Andrews smiled congenially at her son’s ex as she sipped the tea Anthea had brought her earlier. 

“Mycroft, darling, forgive me for the intrusion, but you are Greg’s only true friend.” 

He felt worry deep in his stomach, “What’s wrong, is everything okay?” 

“Nothing like that darling, he is just fine. Gregory is stressed, and I know he’s worried about making Christmas perfect for Sophie. He hasn’t slept much, or had any time to himself, well, as the mother, I worry. So, I was wondering if you and Anthea might help bring a nice Christmas for the girls?” 

Mycroft could hardly say no to anything for his Gregory, he took a seat, “What did you have in mind?” 

“Hank and I have the girls tonight, so Greg can decorate and perhaps buy some gifts, but I spoke with Anthea has already gladly offered to have your staff pick up the presents, I was wondering if perhaps you could just make sure Gregory slept and got some rest. Also, we usually do midnight mass, I know neither you nor my son are particularly religious, but I think he’d appreciate it if you joined us as a part of the family.” 

Mycroft glanced over at Anthea who had a grin on her face, which made him wonder if he was being set up. But since he usually spent Christmas alone, the prospect of being a part of a family for a holiday he typically despised sounded…incredible and warming. “Very well, I’ll be happy to keep Gregory company for this evening. While I can’t promise Christmas Eve or day until we get closer, I’d be happy to plan to attend barring any international crises.” 

“Wonderful! I must be going, I left Hank with the girls, and that inevitably means he’ll have made cookies with them, rendering the house in complete disarray.” He bid her goodbye, and hurried out. 

Mycroft looked over at his PA, “Why do I feel as though I’ve been set up?” 

She smirked, “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean sir. I will ensure the presents are bought, perhaps even a couple for you and Detective Inspector. Would you like me to drop everything off for you two to wrap them?” 

Mycroft nodded, “Certainly. I’m going to head to Gregory’s flat. Do ensure I’m not disturbed this evening. 

“Of course sir.” 

As he rode to Greg’s flat his mind went to the beautiful man, he’d spent the last seventeen years caring about him. Gregory had been so kind to him as a child, but Mycroft always wondered what Gregory got out of it. 

He arrived at the flat, and let himself in with the extra key had Gregory given him shortly after the court session. The house was silent, Mycroft headed into the living area to find Gregory fast asleep on his couch, mouth slightly agape in a snore. He did look tired, the tree wasn’t put up yet, he made a few quick text messages. Then he smiled and headed into the kitchen. 

When Greg woke, it was several hours later, his headache had dulled and he felt much better. He noticed the house was clean, the tree had been put up, and lights around the house. The tree hadn’t been decorated yet, it could still be done by him and his daughter. 

He smelled something, standing he headed into the kitchen to realize it was pot roast, Mycroft stood in an apron and was pulling a large pan out of the oven, “You’re awake, come eat,” he smiled. 

Greg felt stunned, “You did all of this?” 

“Well, I had some help from my staff. 

Gregory was touched, at a complete loss. He’d felt tired and run down lately, he didn’t want to seem overwhelmed but he’d felt like he was drowning lately. “Thank you, for all of this,” he whispered.” 

Mycroft smiled, “My pleasure, Gregory.”   
TBC


	15. Silent Night

Chapter Fifteen: Silent Night  
December 2000

Mycroft never put much thought into being a parent or wanting children. But as Gregory handed Abi to Mycroft, so he could help Sophie put her shoes on, Mycroft held the eleven month old and looked at the beautiful blue eyes staring up at him. “Hello, little princess,” he whispered as he adjusted her in his arms. She reached out gripping his nose, getting a small chuckle as he kissed her hand. 

She sighed and pressed her head to his neck and shoulder, he felt as though something inside his heart and soul was filling up. He couldn’t quite explain it as he felt the warmth of the small body cuddling up close to him. He hadn’t even realized he’d felt so empty as he ran his hand up and down her back in soothing circles. 

“Daddy, is Santa gonna be here while we’re gone?” Sophie asked as Greg lifted her up into her arms and they headed out to the car. 

“I don’t know, have you been a good girl?” he joked, “Of course he will, my love. But I doubt you’ll still be awake.” Once the girls were in their seats, they drove together to the church. When they arrived, they went to a row in the back in case Abi started to cry. The large church was lit by hundreds and hundreds of beautiful candles. 

Mycroft would be lying if it didn’t add a certain romantic and peaceful ambiance. “When I was little, I used to love watching the candles flicker. Christmas was always my favorite holiday,” Greg told him. 

“You never told me that,” Mycroft returned, as he still held the sleeping baby in his arms. 

Greg looked over at him, watching this man hold his baby girl was quite possibly the most arousing thing he thought possible. It sounded ridiculous, but he loved this man with all his heart and soul and now he had him back in his life, in whatever capacity possible he would do whatever he could to keep him there. “You always hated Christmas, I didn’t know why, figured you would want to discuss it. So, I just respected it.” 

Mycroft studied Greg, the lights were shining off his eyes, and shadows cast around them, romantic almost ethereal in a way. Reaching out, he grabbed Greg’s hand, “Thank you.” 

They arrived home at half past one in the morning, presents already under the tree, Sophie fast asleep in Gregory’s arms, while Mycroft still carried the toasty tot. They headed upstairs to the bedroom nursery, Greg gently lay his daughter on her bed, removing her shoes, socks and jumper, before pulling her nightgown on and covered her up. “Merry Christmas my darling,” he murmured and kissed her forehead. 

Mycroft lay Abi down in the crib, sad at how quickly he missed her weight against his chest, “Miss her already?” Greg chuckled. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead as well. “Come on then.” 

They closed the door behind them as they stepped into the hallway. It had been years since they’d been together, but Greg felt the desire in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to re-familiarize himself with the man again. Greg looked at Mycroft, the heat between then, the desires, palpable. “I should probably go,” whispered Mycroft, but he didn’t want to. 

Greg stepped closer, into Mycroft’s impenetrable bubble, “Stay,” the ghost of a whisper danced across Mycroft’s cheek. Mycroft eyed the familiar lips, licking his own lips in response. Finally, he allowed his own carnal desire to overcome him. They didn’t crash together, rather the chaste kiss deepened as Mycroft felt familiar stubble under his lips and cheeks, the familiar smell filling his nostrils and sent shivers down his spine as he let his hands go around Greg’s neck and back, pulling him closer. 

Familiar hands pulled Greg closer, made him grin into the kiss. Gently he led Mycroft to his own bedroom; he locked the door, before returning his lips to Mycroft’s. His mind was screaming fast, but no, he would treasure this as long as he could. His hands went between them and slowly pushed the suit coat off, his hands undid the tie and vest, removing both slowly He pulled Mycroft’s body to his again. “You’re gorgeous,” he offered softly in Mycroft’s ear before slowly kissing his way over his cheek, nose, ear and neck. He pecked his way across the plethora of freckles on the man's neck and back, appreciating each one. 

The sensual moans were soft, not desperate, but made Greg want more. Mycroft removed Greg’s jump, and undershirt, running his fingers over the familiar planes of his stomach, back and shoulders. The dusting of hair of Greg’s chest tickled Mycroft’s now bare torso and smattering of ginger chest hair as well. 

Greg continued his way down, kissing Mycroft’s belly that wasn’t quite flat, but perfectly gorgeous. He stopped at Mycroft’s trousers, his erection tenting them. Greg was riddled with arousal, mind still screaming faster, all the same he took his time. The belt, then buttons and finally the zipper, a grin on his face as Mycroft lifted his hips so Greg could remove them and the underwear all at once. He paused, seated on Mycroft’s shins to study the incredible ginger before him, who’s pupils were blown, who was panting from kisses and was enjoying every moment. 

A moment later, he sank down, mouth around the tip and swiped at the head, tasting his lover. He cupped the balls, eliciting a breathy moan of pleasure. He’d forgotten the beautiful smell and taste of the man beneath him. He felt the cock growing harder as he licked up the vein and hollowed out his cheeks, sucking hard. He couldn’t help the grin as his lover clenched as he drew closer. 

“Want you,” Greg whispered, releasing Mycroft’s cock. 

“Lube?” Mycroft asked as he rolled so Greg was now beneath him and he was atop. 

“Bedside table, and I’m clean, no condom.” 

“Me too, as you wish,” Mycroft replied, thrilled at the idea of feeling the man surrounding him. He removed Greg’s trousers, taking in the sight of the glistening cock. He lubbed his fingers, starting pushing in and out as Greg panted. “All right?” 

“Been awhile,” Greg replied, breathing through the slight burn. 

“How long?” 

“1987,” he answered, as Mycroft pumped his fingers in and out, caressing his prostate every few times. 

“Me?” Mycroft was shocked, he knew that they’d both been with one other person, but he never realized he was probably Greg’s first and only man. 

“Always,” Greg murmured. 

Mycroft felt warmth in his chest, before slipping a second and third finger in. As he worked his fingers in and out, he took Greg’s cock into his own mouth. Finally when neither man could wait a moment longer, he gripped his own cock and pressed into Greg. 

They had to pause, so as not to finish before they’d gotten started, then Greg hitched his legs around Mycroft’s hips, bringing him impossibly closer and in deeper. Mycroft moaned at the velvety heat surrounding him. He gripped Greg’s cock, pumping in rhythm as he thrust, the sound of panting and flesh on flesh the only sound. 

He felt it as it happened, Greg came first, spurting semen over both their stomachs, clenching around Mycroft which pulled his orgasm out. Moments later they lay together, Mycroft atop Greg, neither caring about the sticky fluid between them. 

Greg pressed a kiss to Mycroft’s red hair and smiled, “I love you,” Greg murmured before he slipped out to clean them both up. Mycroft made a noise that was somewhere between a hum and a purr, before Greg rolled them on to their sides, and covered them both up. 

TBC


	16. Hallelujah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst moment of Lestrade's life and job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After some consideration I've decided to complete this story at 32 chapters, they are all written, just not typed out yet. I'm going to turn this into a series so there will be others on the way, but I've realized I don't actually enjoy the whole drabble concept, I prefer to delve deeper. I may at some point go back and rewrite certain aspects of this story as well. But we will move forward plus there's some other story ideas I have for Mystrade now that I've got a good feel for the guys.

Chapter Sixteen:   
February 2001  
I’ve heard there was a secret chord  
That David Played and it pleased the Lord  
But you don’t really care for music, do you?   
It goes like this  
The fourth, the fifth  
The minor fall, the major lift  
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Mycroft didn’t spend every waking moment with Gregory and the girls, but admittedly as December turned in January and then into February Mycroft found himself not only spending more time at Greg’s flat, but found himself enjoying and wanting to be around Greg’s family. 

Mycroft had just returned from a week in Bagdad, and was planning a nice evening out for the family. He sat in his office working through some light paperwork when a frantic call came in; there was a hostage situation at a coffee shop, not far from the police station. 

For some reason, Mycroft felt a wave of uneasiness come over him; he called for a car to take him there. By the time he arrived the bastard was dead, self inflicted gunshot wound to the back of the mouth and head. However, the cops still weren’t letting anyone in. There was yelling, and frantic demands from coppers all over the grounds. Mycroft got out, hoping to get some information, still unable to calm the knot in his stomach. 

“Sergeant Donovan?” he called out to Gregory’s colleague, concerned when he didn’t see his lover immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked. 

She looked paler than usual, and clearly wasn’t in her usual copper mode, because tears were tracing down his cheeks, “He was just comin’ to get us a cuppa,” she whimpered. He hadn’t known her long, but he knew she wasn’t a woman of tears. 

Mycroft’s eyes went wide as he rushed towards the diner, no one stopped him. The scene was…gruesome. There had been six other people in the small café, an adult couple, a mother, daughter-about Sophie’s age, father and another single individual—Greg. As he stepped into the café the overwhelming scent of blood filtered through his nostrils and he had to close his eyes to stave off the nausea. 

He’d have missed him at first, what with the dead and blood all over the now crimson floor. But there he was, in a far corner, holding the little girl-clearly dead, shot straight through the head. He was shaking; his normally handsome tanned face was a pale gray, and his face splattered with blood and brain matter. 

“He won’t let her go,” one of the police behind him whispered. He glanced over at Sally, “He’s been sitting there since she died, he won’t let any of us close. He’s practically catatonic.” 

“His daughter is the girl’s age,” Mycroft whispered as he accepted a pair of booties Sally handed him and he walked through the café. He had to breathe through his mouth and out through his nose so as not to ruin the crime scene with his meager lunch. As he grew closer, he started noticing things. 

Greg had clearly been trying to protect the poor girl, her face buried in his shoulder, he was trembling, his knuckles white from his grip on her. It would’ve been bruising if she was still alive. His eyes were unfocused and wide, his breathing was panicked and uneven. 

“Gregory?” he whispered as he grew close, he was afraid to touch him, he didn’t want to startle the poor man. “Greg, darling, we need to take the little girl away now.” 

“I tried, I’m so sorry, I just wanted to protect her,” it was a quiet litany.

“It’s okay now, she’s safe. We need to take her home now, will you give the child to me?” he didn’t really want to touch the deceased girl, but the other alternative was sit here until Greg lost consciousness, which based on how he was sweating, wasn’t much farther off. 

“Don’t hurt her,” he whispered. 

“I promise,” Mycroft replied, placing his hands under the child’s neck and knees, he lifted with ease and handed the poor girl to a medic. 

His back was turned, “Oh my god, Greg!” Sally’s shout caused him to whirl around; Greg had tilted sideways, eyes closed and unconscious. “We need a medic!” She knelt beside his head, “Stay with me, Greg.” 

Mycroft felt like it was all an out of body experience, Gregory and he were taken in the ambulance. Greg had lost a lot of blood; the gun shot that had killed the girl had hit his shoulder. Once at the hospital, Greg was whisked off to surgery, while Mycroft was made to stay behind, he felt lightheaded, and…frightened, this was all new to him. But what he did know most assuredly was that he couldn’t survive without that beautiful man who’d just witnessed something horrific. 

TBC


	17. Hallelujah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg isn't coping well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm so sorry for the delay, I was in my last week of classes and life got hectic so first thing to go was time to post. Sorry about that. Hopefully you're still hanging in there.

Chapter Seventeen  
February 2001

Your faith was strong but you needed proof  
You saw her bathing on the roof  
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you  
She tied you to a kitchen chair  
She broke your throne, and cut your hair  
and from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

He waited, Anthea arrived with a change of clothes, Greg’s friends from work arrived, his parents and both the girls, now six and one. Even Sherlock came however briefly. The longer they sat there, the more worried Mycroft became. He couldn’t even fathom what might come of this, words like post traumatic stress disorder kept swimming across his brain as he thought about his partner. 

Finally, a doctor stepped out, “Family of Gregory Lestrade?” 

Mycroft, Hank and Katie all stood, “My other children are on their way, but we’re his family for now,” Katie assured. 

The doctor nodded and took them, and the girls to a private room, after a moment of silence he began, “Inspector Lestrade was both incredibly unlucky, and lucky all at once if that’s possible. Obviously what he’s been through will leave emotional scars that I can’t possibly fix, no matter how badly I’d like to. However, the bullet was slowed down significantly by passing through the girl,” he paused and looked at the ground, “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Looking back up he pushed forward, “Gunshot wounds are basically a centralized crushing impact. He was hit by his clavicle and upper right chest. The bullet narrowly missed breaking the bone, and caused a some muscle and tendon trauma. He will make a full recovery, but we do recommend physical therapy as well as some counseling.” 

“How long?” Hank asked, “He’s a copper, that’s his whole life.” 

“I know. He will be able to return to desk duty within four to six weeks if he works hard and passes a psych evaluation. We’ll begin the physical therapy as soon as the stitches heel in two weeks. I would say expect it to take about eight weeks for full use back. It would be my advice that he doesn’t go back to his flat alone with his children. He’s going to need help with day to day things for some time.” 

“They can move in with me,” Mycroft offered, “I can have him and the girls all moved in by tomorrow.” Mycroft looked at Katie and Hank, “If that’s all right with you of course.”   
Katie nodded, “I’d like to come stay for a few weeks, help him settle, but we do live an hour outside of London, it would be impractical to want them to come live with us.” 

“Good, then if you’d like, I’d be happy to take you to see him. I must caution the children, his left side must remain un-jostled. I would also recommend some therapy for his mental health; I don’t expect him to have an easy time with what he witnessed.” 

“I’ll talk to him about it,” Katie replied. 

A few minutes later they were being walked to the hospital room, Mycroft drew in a sharp breath at the sight of his lover. His normally active and healthy partner was style, pale and surrounded by machines. He was surprised when he felt a tiny little hand grip his hand. Mycroft glanced down to see Sophie crying softly at the sight. 

Katie, Abi and Hank stepped into the room, while Mycroft knelt down in front of Sophie, “I know this is frightening, seeing all those machines around him, but I spoke with the doctor. Your father is going to make a full recovery.” 

“Are they sure?” she whimpered. 

Mycroft brushed the tears from her soft cheeks, “Yes, my princess. He is hurt badly though. He’s going to need us to be his hands and arms for the next several weeks. Do you think you could help me with your sister some?” 

She nodded, wiping the back of her hand across her cheeks, and in a move very much like her daddy, she straightened up and put on her brave face. “Can I give him a kiss?” 

“I’m sure he would love that, how about if I hold you above him and get you in as close as I can, just don’t touch any of the wires okay?” He paused, “Also, he’s seen something pretty scary, and he might want some extra hugs and kisses when he wakes up.” He couldn’t help put realize how much he’d changed his tone and the way he said things for this little girl. He wasn’t treating her like she was stupid, but she had to understand it on her level as well. 

She smiled at that, “I’ll give him as many as he wants.” 

“Right then, let’s go see him,” gripping her hand the two stepped into the room together. Mycroft felt her hand squeeze tighter, but she proved stronger and walked over to the side of his bed. 

Greg’s right shoulder was wrapped; there was a bolster of some sort between his ribs and arm to keep them from shifting. He’d been cleaned up, but Mycroft knew nothing would clear this from his mind. He lifted Sophia up, and helped her get close enough to press a kiss to her daddy’s forehead, before setting her back down. 

Mycroft had Anthea take Hank, Katie and the girls back to his mansion, knowing they’d wanted to be close for now. He made himself as comfortable as possible in a chair as he watched his partner sleep. 

“Is he all right?” Sherlock surprised him later that night. 

“Doubtful, at least not mentally. This will haunt him forever I fear.” 

Sherlock studied his brother, “You’ve been alone for a long time, brother dear.” 

Mycroft’s brow furrowed, “What are you on about?” 

“Uncle Rudy was the only one who believed caring wasn’t an advantage. Perhaps you’re beginning to see that it has its uses?” 

Mycroft looked down at Greg’s hand, “I fear I could grow quiet accustomed to having someone to come home to every day.” 

“Do keep me updated, Sally has agreed-albeit reluctantly, to allow me to work with her for the time being.” 

Sherlock took his leave, while Mycroft sat there once more. He glanced at Greg’s face and was surprised to see a pair of haunted brown eyes staring back at him. “Gregory,” he stood getting closer. He was shocked when tears began to gather in Greg’s eyes and made their way down his cheeks. 

“I killed her,” he whispered.   
TBC


End file.
